Cooking with Love
Posted in Articles by Lesley on January 26th, 2012 at 8:56 am.
Best Ever Banana Bread
Febraury, 2012 Nanaimo Magazine Article
By Lesley Lorenz
As the old adage goes, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach – whether he’s your husband or your teen-age son. Even future basketball stars throw their lanky teenage arms around you for a hug when you bake their favourite treat. At our house, it’s my famous chocolate banana bread that gets the most requests. Fragrant enough to waft right out the kitchen and into the yard, this loaf smells so good all your neighbours will fall in love with you too. To reach friends out of olfactory range, my kids have been known to post ‘banana bread events’ on facebook.
Beat together 1 cup of sugar, 1/3 cup of butter and 2 eggs. Add 3 mashed bananas and 1/3 cup of water and whiz it up again. Mix in 1 and 2/3 cups flour, 1 teaspoon of soda, 3/4 teaspoon of salt, 1/4 teaspoon of baking powder and 1/4 teaspoon of nutmeg. Add in about 1/2 cup of chocolate chips and 1/3 cup of sweetened coconut. Pile the mixture into a greased loaf pan, sprinkle liberally with brown sugar and bake at 350 degrees for about 70 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean. Wait about 15 minutes after taking your prize out of the oven before removing it from the pan, and then try to keep everyone from snootching a piece for another hour, as it will slice much easier when cool. We are almost always unsuccessful at waiting, and end up slathering butter on top and eating it warm and crumbly to soothe our rumbling tummies.
Serve this yummy treat with hot chocolate in front of the fire, and snuggle to your heart’s content!
Lucky Dragon
Posted in Articles by Lesley on December 28th, 2011 at 8:43 am.
Nanaimo Magazine Article
Written by Lesley Lorenz
Picture the dragon at the head of the parade, shaking its shimmering red and gold scales from side to side, boldly dancing to the drumming and cheering of the onlookers. The dragon leads the procession with colour and creativity, a source of mythical strength and legendary power.
Born in 1916, 1928, 1940, 1952, 1964, 1976, 1988, 2000 or 2012, world famous dragons include Joan of Arc, John Lennon, Bruce Lee, Mae West and Placido Domingo. That’s quite a line up! Being a dragon myself, I admit to finding some personal insight from the attributes declared in the Chinese Zodiac; Dragons are described as creative, strong willed, and inclined to take too much upon their mighty shoulders, sometimes risking ambitions and plans.
It is also said that conformation is a Dragon’s curse: they are free spirits that believe rules and regulations are made for other people. I do follow some rules – but I admit to picking and choosing, especially rules surrounding how often to clean house or substituting almost every ingredient in a recipe. Well hey – that’s because Dragons are innovative, imaginative and artistic. Key professional roles include politicians (I tried), entrepreneurs (that’s a positive), psychoanalysts (does constant self assessment count?) and inventors (working on the diagrams now…).
It is said that people love Dragons because they are generous, charismatic, irresistible, and so brave that those around them become fearless too. I hardly see myself as meeting these lofty ideals, but I do admit to being impulsive. Yin balances Yang, and according to masters of the predictive arts, Dragons must be vigilant or they become egotistical, temperamental, and bossy. (You’d have to ask my minions, -I mean family -but I think I’m fairly tactful at times.) Like many Dragons, I am unfortunately prone to stress-related illnesses such as headaches.
Glittery-eyed Dragons favour things of beauty – as in their legendary love of princesses – and hold special fondness for sapphire, amber and opals. They dislike unnecessary bureaucracy and getting unsolicited advice. (Is there a zodiac sign that likes those?) Dragons are the luckiest of all the signs, enjoying longevity and prosperity.
May good fortune shine upon you in 2012, the year of the lucky dragon!
Snow Day
Posted in Articles and Life on the farm by Lesley on December 2nd, 2011 at 8:53 am.
Nanaimo Magazine Article
December, 2011
By Lesley Lorenz
“Snow” my Dad would whisper, tiptoeing in to my room at the first silver edge of dawn. My eyes would flash open with excitement, and I’d rush to my bedroom window. When I was quite little, the side street next to our house was still a dirt road, and you could hear the crunchy jingle of tire chains as they etched out two long, thick braids into the glittering snow. I would run to my closet to throw my snow pants on right over top of my jammies, and I could hear my brother running down the hall in his plastic pants too. “Are we going skiing?” he’d ask, his ears cherry red from sleep. We skied on Mount Seymour in North Vancouver; it had one towrope and one chair. My brother started skiing when he was so small that when he went up the towrope his skis didn’t touch the ground, he just dangled like a badly hung Christmas ornament.
We’d ski all morning and then take our lunch into the lodge, clomping in the heavy ski boots like proto-type transformers. We’d be allowed to choose a chocolate bar from the machine, an unheard of treat down in the valley, but here in the clouds my mother would relent and allow us sweets. After all, we’d had our tiger’s milk – a concoction she brewed each morning featuring lecithin, wheat germ and a few other items that easily triggered the gag reflex. She knew she was keeping us healthy though – as she calculated by how early in the spring we could comfortably go barefoot.
We didn’t have facebook or twitter or chat on line. You had to stand outside your friend’s house and yell, or perhaps brave the kitchen door if you thought their Mom wasn’t going to hand out a chore before you could escape. On snow days we would make the hugest snowman possible, pushing and rolling until we felt faint under our soaking wet toques. Our woolen mittens had clumps of frozen snow stuck to them, which we would suck on for energy. Once back inside in front of the fire, my brother took off his rubber boots and he had an athletic sock on one foot and a baby mitten on the other one, barely covering his toes.
A good old – fashioned snow day. I still love’em!
Soo is Due
Posted in Articles and Life on the farm by Lesley on October 28th, 2011 at 9:41 am.
Story of a Pregnant Goat Nanaimo Magazine November 2011 By Lesley Lorenz
When we drove out to Coombs for our little black pygmy goat, her owner pointed to the base of a fountainous maple tree and said “she was born right there, in April of last year”. Soo peered up at us with bright blue eyes as her owner continued “she’s been with the billy for over a month. We’re pretty sure she’s pregnant.” The family was heading off to Nova Scotia, and didn’t think she’d weather the journey too well. How could we resist? Soo came home with us in the back of the truck.
Originally, we decided to get a (pregnant) doe because of our love of goat cheese. Oh, how I wanted to make my own fragrant, fresh cheese. We went to several goat ‘fairs’, where the animals were judged and rated – but no pygmies made an appearance. I milked a demonstration goat and asked “will my doe just let me grab her teats and milk her after the babies are born?”
I’d swear that milkmaid was going to fall off her three-legged stool laughing at my innocent question. Apparently, Mark was going to have to make us a milk stand lickety-split, and I was only to feed her when she was locked into the stand. It took weeks – at first she wouldn’t put her head through for the feed, then she darted about frantically when I touched her back, but finally she let me grab her udder and practice milking a bit while she had her breakfast.
She has fattened up nicely, and I feel the kids kicking every day. Most goats have two or three offspring at a time; I’m hoping for a boy and a girl. It will be wonderful when her babies arrive, as she’s a herd animal and is constantly looking for companionship. She follows the chickens around – hardly bigger than them – and stays right by my side whenever I work in the garden. When I go to the coop to collect eggs, she stands up on her hind legs and peers right in too. She head butts our front door, hoping to be invited in, and the other day I guess I didn’t close it tight enough when I went to work. When I came home, there she was standing on the dining room table, munching away on the floral centrepiece. She had even managed to politely avoid leaving any droppings behind her while she dined inside.
Island Dance Art -classes in the performing arts
Posted in Articles by Lesley on October 2nd, 2011 at 8:57 am.
Island Dance Art
For me the fall is a time of new beginnings. Children head off to school, 24 crayons still intact and new runners primed for squeaking on the glossy gym floor. They anticipate their year ahead with reckless optimism. As a former teacher, the excitement of a new school year wells up inside me too, with plans of honing creative skills and sculpting out some fresh ideas.
This fall, I decided to dust off my chalkboard and get back to teaching. I dug around in the attic, and found a very large but very light box of tutus and three-threes. (Just kidding; a dance joke flung out each year by my Dad when we started another season at the family dance school.) I found tiny tiaras and chiffon scarves, tambourines and plastic pirate swords littering the bottom of the dance box. Next I rummaged about in my art closet and uncovered paint brushes and smocks, pastels and sketchbooks. I rolled up my sleeves and called local church halls, legions and recreation centres.
With several locations in Nanaimo, Ladysmith, Chemainus and Cedar willing to rent me a room to teach from, I put out the word that local dance and art classes would soon begin. It’s funny, I knew that I would need to prepare popular music and create fun lesson plans, but I had somehow forgotten that as soon as I met the kids, half the preparation would be thrown out the window as I adapted to their spontaneity. Kids are non-stop imagination machines! They come up with ideas like using the magic wands as fishing rods and turning modeling clay into a snail collection for the fairy house in the backyard. So I twist my lessons to create room for the unexpected, and guide them through arabesque and colour mixing theory despite the unusual dips and turns in the path.
I also teach adults – and that’s a whole other kind of fun. No-one cries the first day, hiding beneath their mother’s arms, curious but watchful and finally joining in. Adults clean up their own messes when paint brushes clatter to the floor, and even embarrassingly help clean up after me when my still life vase of too-heavy sunflowers topples to the ground and floods the studio. Grown-ups bring life experience and good humour to the classroom, and friendships begin to solidify.
Cheers to the new beginnings that fall brings!
Lesley
Island Kitchen Secrets
Posted in Articles and Life on the farm by Lesley on August 26th, 2011 at 10:34 pm.
Nanaimo Magazine Article
September, 2011
By Lesley Lorenz-Drysdale
My husband just about passes out in anticipation at the mention of my special homemade ravioli – so just this once, I’ll share a secret recipe. I’ve been warned that this concoction I contrived is just too good to be given away, but I can’t help myself – I want everyone to be pleasantly stuffed! So here is a slightly vague but still valuable map to a delicious Italian treat.
Sausage Ravioli with Wild Mushroom Sauce
Start at the market – Cedar Farmer’s Market, next Sunday. Its right next to the Crow and Gate Pub, a perfect place to freshen up with a cold one after you’ve shopped the farmers’ wares. Go see the sausage man. He’s got a huge freezer full of lean and flavourful homemade sausage. I like the Cognac variety, but go with your instinct – try Mexican or Italian sausage instead. Next, wander over to see the Wild Mushroom lady. She’s easy to spot – her hair as wild as the forest moss. I’ve used Morel, Chanterelle or Lobster Mushrooms. They are all equally wonderful and aromatic. On your way home get some heavy cream. You don’t need much – but skim milk just won’t do for this recipe.
Wash your hands and put on an apron. I collect aprons from the fifties – I figure they’re somehow lucky, akin to tying some well-earned experience and wisdom around my waist. I get out my pasta maker and break a couple of eggs into a bowl, add a cup and a half of flour and a pinch of salt, a little oil and water so that the dough is workable, not too dry. Wheel it through until it’s skinny but not falling apart (a state many of us wish to be in!) and lay out strips on a floured counter. Chop the sausages into itty bitty pieces and add onions and some chopped hazelnuts or pine nuts, whatever you have on hand. Sauté until your kitchen smells unbearably good. Fill up your ravioli (kind of like pinching perogies or stuffing wontons) and let them rest on the counter while you prepare the sauce. Sauté your mushrooms in good old-fashioned butter until there are nutty brown. Add whipping cream, a pinch of salt, fresh ground pepper and a snowfall of grated parmesan. Pop the ravioli into lightly boiling water for a few minutes.
By now everyone in your house will be gravitating towards the kitchen, their mouths watering. Sip your wine, untie your apron, and let them wait a moment. Savour the anticipation…
For a more specific recipe, click here
Crossing Canada
Posted in Articles by Lesley on August 19th, 2011 at 8:05 am.
BC to Manitoba in a VW Van
By Lesley Lorenz
Nanaimo Magazine
August Issue
Our cross-country craft, a 30 year old VW Van, was cram packed with high hopes, adventurous spirits and groceries to feed three people and a small dog. The Old Girl’s pistons fire at a tempo close to bubbling spaghetti sauce, and we drew stares from kids and cows alike. We threaded our way through the Fraser Canyon, and it echoed back to us a dry metallic laugh as we wondered out loud who was faster up hills – our waddling wiener dog or the sputtering van.
Just outside of Merritt, we saw a moose standing in a swamp. At first I thought it was a stump until its giant antlers lifted out of the murk, covered in weeds and dripping muck. By day two we hit the Rockies, and stopped in Banff long enough to have a close encounter with a big horn sheep and to meet a herd of mosquitoes so large and ferocious that they flung themselves kamikaze style at the van windows while we sequestered ourselves inside and ate hot dogs at a clipboard sized table.
We reached our destination, Carberry, Manitoba, just in time for the family reunion which culminated in a celestial display of sparkling stars not possible in mountainous BC. We went to the country fair and rodeo, where we were forced to use our strongest will to pass up on a basket of free kittens. The time had come for a giant U-Turn and we headed down into the states to finish our journey.
Our beloved van had other ideas, however. In a little bitty dirt heap of a town in North Dakota, someone had struck oil, and it was just at the outskirts of town (appropriately, the gates to the graveyard) that our van broke down. With a population of a couple of hundred, but over a thousand oiljacks in town, there was nowhere to stay while we waited three days for a repair. The kind garage mechanic let us “camp” next to the other wreckage in the work shop lot. Woo Hoo!
Now we had to hurry home, and made a bee-line for Leavenworth, Washington. Someone had the bright idea to re-create a Bavarian village in the Cascade Mountains, and we just had to see it. Wonderful costumes, smoky Bratwursts and quaint architectural details made it worth the effort. Amazing how fast you can tire of yodeling though.
Our “Scooby” van got us all home in one piece, but when we washed the grit and bugs off the van – lo and behold, we could see the interior from the exterior. We recommend avoiding the use of a power washer on any vehicles that sound like a Smithrite Dumpster when you close the panel door.
Ukrainian Canadians (The Perogy Pinchers)
Posted in Articles and Life on the farm by Lesley on June 24th, 2011 at 9:28 am.
July, 2010
By Lesley Lorenz
Several years ago, I painted the perogy pinchers from life. I was new to the island, and began dancing with the local Ukrainian troop. The culture of these wonderful people permeated into daily tasks – so that tradition was woven into their lives at the most basic level. My background is Polish and Russian, but they nevertheless welcomed me in. The dance steps I was taught carried significance – certain steps were tiny and precise – and originated from the forest regions of the Ukraine. The large, exuberant jumps and turns were characteristic of the plains area. I was informed that in order to perform with the troop, I would have to embroider the sleeves of the blouse being made for me. It took nearly two months to stitch the ornate pattern – which was specific to the plains region – into the sleeves. I drew around the edges of my foot, and sent the picture off to the Ukraine, where a custom-fitted pair of red leather boots was made for me. But there was still one more task I had to complete – to pinch perogies with the Babas in the church kitchen.
I was to bring the stuffing – 10 lbs of potatoes, mashed, two whole onions grated in to the mix, a slab of butter and a block of cheese. The Babas looked at my mix carefully, inspecting it before we began pinching. Apparently, I had not added the cheese at the correct moment, and the stuffing was lumpy. Undaunted, they began to sing and pinch and tell stories to each other. They argued at length over which potatoes made the very best perogies, and they advised each other on how to grow the crunchiest cucumbers for pickling in late summer. These women had spent a lifetime feeding the next generations, one by one, pinching perogies and teaching tradition.
I was honoured to be allowed to watch the next session, to draw the activities and expressions and babushkas (head scarves which are still worn in the kitchen). The painting means a lot to me. The hands shape more than perogies; they shape history into bite sized pieces to nurture their culture.
Paintings by Artist Lesley Lorenz
Posted in Paintings by Lesley on June 20th, 2011 at 10:46 am.
Artist Lesley Lorenz has over 30 works in private collections on Vancouver Island and the Lower Mainland. She paints commissioned portraits of people, pets and favourite locations. Pencil Drawings starting at $99, Acrylic Portraits starting at $299. Call 250-714-2106 for more information or to book a sitting for a portrait. Paintings of loved ones from photographs can also be arranged by request.
Rose Bouquet
acrylic
16″x20″
$400
African Violet
acrylic
12″x12″
$150
Still Life Fruit and Bread
acrylic
16″x20″
$400
Swim Goggles
Acrylic
16″x20″
Artist’s collection
Appletoes Painting
Acrylic
20″x30″
$500
Donut Run
Acrylic
16″x20″
$400
Piglet
acrylic
8″x10″
$100
Homesteading
Posted in Articles and Life on the farm by Lesley on May 23rd, 2011 at 9:59 am.
Nanaimo Magazine Article
May, 2011
By Lesley Lorenz
My father’s father challenged the land. At the age of twenty one – the third son of eight – he left the family wheat farm with a two-horse team and headed north to Nipawan. Axe in hand, he began hacking away at the thick trunked birch that crisscrossed the property. 160 acres of crown land would become his if he could clear at least 30 acres and build a home on the land. Each week, he would cut a wagon load of firewood, drive it into town and sell the load for two dollars – enough to buy his coffee and sugar, staples for one. His humble cabin he built alone with downed timber, but it was drafty and cold, and by the time winter set in he was so cold that he preferred to sleep in the barn, between the horses.
The man had the biggest hands I’ve ever seen, and I imagine they were covered in blisters and calluses from working the land. When I was a child, sitting next to him at the dinner table, I was awed by his size – he’d reach for the salt, and it would disappear into the grasp of a giant. Even so – with size and youth and enthusiasm on his side – the land proved to be too much. After a winter of bedding down in the hay with the livestock, Mike Lorenz folded his hand and headed back home.
Am I sorry the land that taunted him won? In the end, it was the twist in the fabric of our family history that led to my personal strand. He left Nipawan and went back to Ituna, where beautiful Sophie, my grandmother, was learning to pinch perogies and stitch the dowry linens for her wedding. The story – have I told it before? – was that he fought for her hand – and although his suspenders broke, he held his pants up with his left hand and managed to fight off his competitor with only his trusty right hook – stronger from all the axe swinging he’d been filling his days with.
The deal securely clinched, they wed, took on the duties of running a fox farm, and got busy creating the first of their offspring, my father. So while we don’t have family acreage in Nipawan, we do have – and I’ve counted – forty-three souls that count him as a forefather.
Mothers and Daughters
Posted in Articles by Lesley on April 26th, 2011 at 7:50 am.
Nanaimo Magazine
May 2011 Article
By Lesley Lorenz
Side by side, we face the world; she calls in tears, lost in the Vancouver suburbs, and I tell her which landmarks to search for. Experience counts when you need it in a hurry, so I advise her to look for the lights of Grouse Mountain – they are north, and the direction she needs to turn herself to. It is the advice my own mother gave me on my first excursion downtown, driving alone.
My daughter dances, earning the money for her high heels by teaching. I danced and taught, at the school my mother started when I was only two. We all know how to make pastel-coloured tutus, and how to direct preschoolers to plie and point and spin from behind the curtains. We all pretend to know how to tell the future, and read each other’s cards and teacups, with serious reprimands to watch out for dark strangers (unless they’re very rich) and to follow our hearts not our heads.
My mother writes mysteries that unravel in the Straits of Georgia, and without knowing I name the same tiny bay in my own local thriller. My daughter also writes, with more confidence and panache then either of her elders. Each generation is a little stronger than the last in learning foreign languages, and a little weaker at the art of baking bread, especially buns that are not rock-like, and doomed for the compost heap.
Of course we are different too, each playing the starring role in our own theatrical production. At the moment, my daughter plans to teach English in Asia, my mother is honing her ukulele/tap dancing skills and I am trying to figure out how to make a fortune selling goat cheese (home-made).
I wish my mom was in the accompanying photo too, to compare all our profiles – but as I walked to the altar with my daughter at my side, my mother was busy contriving our next trickle-down escapade; done with dance and psychic readings, writing stories and mastering French, perhaps we will all move on to designing theme parks, or, from the daughter on upwards, creating awkward sock monkeys.
Whatever the adventure, we’ll face it together!
To Bee or Not to Bee
Posted in Articles and Life on the farm by Lesley on April 20th, 2011 at 8:44 am.
A question of declining population
By Lesley Lorenz Drysdale
Humans are presented with the dilemma of the birds and the bees – or rather, the songbirds, the frogs and the bees. While we proliferate and profit from large swaths of land dedicated to a single purpose – a field of hay, or a hectare of suburban sprawl, our tiny compatriots need diversity to survive. While I have generally been discouraged by the lack of impact a single person may have on environmental issues, we can give the bees a helping hand.
Mason bees can be cultivated in your yard just as songbirds can be fed and bathed and housed in your garden. Bee houses are a fun and inexpensive project that your whole family can participate in. You can purchase a bee house at your local nursery, or even build one yourself with one of the designs available on line. Similar to a small bird house with a dozen or more holes drilled into it, the bee house encourages bees to find a home near your fruit trees or berry bushes.
You can also purchase the bees themselves. Stored in tiny containers the size of matchboxes, the cocoons are popped into a doorway at the top of the bee house and as the weather warms, the ‘newbees’ emerge and head down below into one of the many compartments available. The males will appear first, and mate with the females as soon as they hatch. The males then die off and the females look for a nearby nesting spot. Females then visit flowers to gather pollen and nectar to provide for their young. The female bee backs into the hole and lays an egg on top of the mass of nectar and pollen. Female-destined eggs are laid in the back of the nest, and male eggs towards the front.
You can expect your yield of bees to double each year, or perhaps even quadruple in a good year. Your garden will be buzzing with activity and the fruits of your labour (and theirs) can be canned, or made into jam, or even picked and crushed for home-made wine.
As Will Shakespeare also penned:
“For so work the honey-bees, creatures that by a rule in nature teach the act of order to a peopled kingdom.”
Internet Farming
Posted in Articles and Life on the farm by Lesley on March 28th, 2011 at 5:20 pm.
March Article, Nanaimo Magazine
By Lesley Lorenz-Drysdale
On line you can buy a semen tank, fertilized eggs, hey (sic) or raccoon-proof chicken coops. Thanks to the resourcefulness of island farmers and homesteaders, the tools of the agricultural trade are used, reused and converted for new uses – such as the self described “automatic water thingie” – listed on a popular buy, sell or trade website as a homemade item consisting of a double sink and toilet floater, it promises to provide water to your livestock on demand – and it’s only $10!
With so many options, how is a new farmer outstanding in her field to decide what to plant, what to grow and what to breed? Will there be enough water and grass for 2 goats, and a cow? What breed of goats are the best for milking, and are they going to stare me down with their weirdly slitted eyes while I stare fiercely back, milk pail in hand? What about sheep? My knitting needles are poised and patiently waiting for enough wool to supply the whole family with the notoriously ugly toques I knit. I also want to make sure there are plenty of peas and carrots and a cute little cabin for guests to stay in when they visit the ranch.
Perhaps I’ll begin with the soil, test it to see what would grow best, and work my way up from there. My gumboot-clad neighbour said the fields were last planted with garlic – great big elephant garlic – so I am assuming my goats will have bad breath during the morning milking. The milk will probably carry the flavour too – but that works for me, as I intend to make goat cheese, and it will come pre-seasoned!
We can only afford a tractor built in the post-war era, complete with a metal driver’s seat that matches a tricycle seat exactly. How do you get replacement parts for a piece of machinery built in 1947? Wait … I bet I could find it online, or at least track down a farm-yard mechanic who machines his own tools and parts.
City to Farm Lifestyle Renovation
Posted in Articles and Life on the farm by Lesley on March 10th, 2011 at 8:49 am.
March 2011
Nanaimo Magazine Article
By Lesley Lorenz
We just bought a farm out in Cedar, and the five acres are beautiful, but the farmhouse needs LOTS of work. Built in 1973, the home still has original plumbing (olive green fixtures in the bathrooms), orange shag carpets and glitter-flecked textured ceilings. The light fixtures look like they came straight out of a Star Trek stage set – orange orbs encased in black wrought iron capsules. There is a herd of feral peacocks that are apparently ours – the previous owners vacated the property two years ago and the peacocks have been alternately fending for themselves and getting handouts from our generous next-door neighbours.
My parents are helping, with Dad taking on the role of overseer and the rest of the island-based family following orders. I attempted to negotiate a roof repair with a local handyman of the retired persuasion, but was worried about the situation on the roof when he informed me his ‘assistant’ was eighty-three years old. We spend our evenings and weekends ripping out drywall and filling our dumpster with dusty carpets, broken appliances and a stack of saved empty dog food bags. Eventually, we will paint all the walls and ceilings, lay new floors and pop in double-paned windows. While we work, the herd of peacocks peer in the windows at us – the flock numbers about sixteen individuals, so there’s usually at least one or two tracking our progress. We also have a pond (okay, a large puddle) which becomes a croaking mass of frogs around dusk. Deer traverse the property, nibbling at the few spring bulbs that have started to poke their heads up in the fields.
My eldest son took out an entire closet wall kung-fu style, complete with Bruce Lee sound effects. However, he’s not nearly as fearsome as the trades who walk around quoting gargantuan numbers to upgrade the electricity and plumbing into the 21st century. Somehow, the numbers grow exponentially between their verbal estimates and the paperwork that is left on the sawdust-covered kitchen counter. How long ‘till we’re setting up a roadside stand with free-range eggs and cut flowers and home-made jam? I’m crossing my fingers I’ll be harvesting the fruits of my five acres in the fall. I’ll keep you posted, so you-all can mosey on by in September.
I’m in Love with a Rabbit!
Posted in Articles by Lesley on January 27th, 2011 at 11:40 am.
February 2011
Nanaimo Magazine Article
By Lesley Lorenz
The Chinese New Year on February 3 signals the beginning of the year of the rabbit. Being married to a rabbit, I can confirm that rabbits (at least the one in our den) are easy-going, positive, non-confrontational and very social. They are also extremely cute and cuddly.
Bunnies are very busy animals in our culture, from delivering colourful eggs and hollow chocolate replicas of themselves to luring Victorian children down their rabbit holes and decorating Hugh Hefner’s arm. In Nanaimo, a self-replicating army of rabbits take on the daunting chore of trimming the grass at the airport and the university.
The rabbit is described as the luckiest sign of the zodiac, and this year, the numbers that will bring success are 1, 3, 5, 9, 15, 19 and 35. Rabbits are articulate and good communicators which is why friends and acquaintances seek out their advice. It’s noted in the Chinese Zodiac that Rabbits make excellent diplomats and politicians – I wonder how many of those running for office this year are rabbits? At least we’ll know that they will be fast on their feet!
Some famous rabbits include Lewis Carroll (Alice in Wonderland), John Cleese (Fawlty Towers) and Roger Moore (the cheesiest of the James Bonds), not to mention Bugs Bunny and Jessica Rabbit. Born in the years 1915, 1927, 1939, 1951, 1963, 1975, 1987, 1999, 2011, they hold in common a terrific sense of humour and are hopeless romantics.
For the rest of us non-rabbits, this year is predicted to be a time in which you can catch your breath and calm your nerves, and focus on home, family, and security. A sense of peace, diplomacy and harmony will permeate the year. Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? A time for us to frolic in the fields and create happy families. It will be pleasant to have a year pulled out of a magician’s hat that is surprising but calm, successful without being tumultuous and lucky by a hop, skip and a jump.